I'll walk through hell with you
by ChocolateWonder
Summary: A tale of a love that wilted before it could blossom. QLFC Round 4, for Bex.


**Written for…**

 **QLFC Round 4:** _Write about the Bones family._ **Additional Prompts:** (quote) The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else. – John Blake, (animal) cat, (object) pot

 **Monthly One-shot Exchange- July :: Prompts:** _(word) Wounded_

 **Are You Crazy Enough to Do It Challenge:** (character) Amelia Bones

* * *

 _For Bex_

 _Word Count: 2,617_

 _Thanks to my Captain **Sam** for beta-ing._

* * *

 _ **I'll walk through hell with you**_

* * *

Mr. Bones slammed his hands down on the tabletop. "No, Laura, we can't do that to her! Amelia has the right to make her own decisions."

Eighteen-year-old Amelia stood by the door with her back against the wall, eavesdropping on her parents. What had started as a tense exchange between Mr. and Mrs. Bones had become a heated quarrel of epic proportions. The door muffled her parents' voices slightly, but Amelia could still hear every word and it stung painfully. Her mother's words especially stabbed her heart like a sharp blade.

They were arguing over Amelia's choice of profession. While most girls her age were expected to stay at home, minding their children while their husbands were at their job, Amelia aspired to become a fully-qualified employee of the Ministry of Magic. Even more, she strove to be a member of Wizengamot.

A scream of frustration dislodged Amelia from her thoughts. "Why won't you listen to me? I'm only trying to do my best to help her fit into society, but with you always backing her up, I can't!"

 _Here we go again, with all the society rubbish_ , thought Amelia bitterly. Would she ever learn that Amelia sought to stand out, not blend into the crowd?

Naturally, Amelia's mother did not approve of these so-called "ludicrous, unrealistic fantasies." If anything, she discouraged Amelia whenever she received the opportunity. Mrs. Bones was a woman who believed staunchly that men belonged in the workplace and women ought to stay home, which was what her own family had taught her. However, Amelia was stubborn and headstrong like her father and openly mocked the idea. This led to many disagreements between her and her mother, and her father always sided with Amelia, much to her mother's displeasure.

Amelia was wounded by her mother's lack of faith and it fuelled her to rebel even more, religiously achieving excellent marks in school and working tirelessly to disprove the theory that women could not hold important jobs.

Amelia's mind returned to her parents' raised voices. She craved the peace that never descended; she couldn't stand it when her parents disrupted the temporary silence that fell between their frequent disputes. She knew it was all her fault that her parents were arguing. Her brother, Edgar, was apparently her mother's favorite child, from the way she doted on him especially.

She heard her father's disembodied voice and anger ignited inside of her. She was fed up with their arguing, and society be damned, she wasn't going to let her mother get in the way of doing what she wanted.

Her heart pounding madly against her ribcage, she forced open the door with unsuppressed vigor, pleased when her parents paused; the intended effect.

For a moment, Amelia merely gazed at them, tears swimming in her eyes, before marching over to her mother and looking her directly in the eyes.

"I can't believe your selfishness, Mother," she said quietly, her voice wavering tremulously, "Consider my wishes before your own. And please, for my and Edgar's sakes, evaluate our decisions carefully without complaint. There's always a reason behind what we do. Just trust us and don't belittle us, Father included."

She calmly waited for the inevitable explosion, but it didn't arrive. Her mother was evidently stunned into submission.

"I—well—" she stammered, but Amelia cut her off.

"You're okay with our magical abilities, but you can't acknowledge that I don't want to live up to your expectations. I don't want to conform, despite your futile attempts to make me. I'm sorry, Mother, but I simply don't give a damn about your future plans for me. I know what I want to do and I'm going to reach there, no matter what you say."

"She's right, darling," said Mr. Bones, nodding supportively, "You can't force her to do anything against her will."

Amelia appraised her father. He was obviously tired, since fighting with his wife drained so much energy out of him.

"I—"

"Save it," she said coolly, her face expressionless, before storming out of the room.

She didn't halt until she reached the lawn, which was blanketed by a thick layer of snow. The sun was shining, but the chilly air was nipping at her skin since she'd neglected to wear a coat or any sort of protective clothing, except for a thin purple sweater and a pair of tights.

The Bones owned a modestly sized estate, a Victorian-style house in the center. A path wound around the house once and curved its way through the lawn, finally ending at the dirt road, which led to a forest. Amelia had often wandered into the forest to let off some steam. As far as she knew, no one else lived in the wood. There was a dilapidated brick cottage, though, but nobody had resided in it for years, hence the ramshackle look it possessed. Amelia had been often tempted to go inside, but the door was mysteriously locked.

Today Amelia meandered around the general area, playing with ivy tendrils hanging from the roof. She almost stepped on the sharp shards of a broken pot, probably shattered from age and fragility.

Her eyes were drawn to several bricks sticking out haphazardly on the side of the house and wondered briefly if she could perhaps climb to the roof, just as a small adventure. The cottage wasn't that tall, so she could easily get back down if needed.

Amelia was prone to overthinking simple things, so she pushed aside her concerns and pulled herself up with the tendrils of ivy, placing her feet on the bricks. It was harder than it looked, but Amelia was a strong girl, so she was able to scale the wall quickly.

The roof was in a similar state to the rest of the cottage, but Amelia didn't care. She relished the peace and quiet that came with sitting on the roof and gazing over the treetops to the horizon. Her back was to her home, where her worries were lying in wait for her.

The sun was beginning to sink, casting its brilliant rays and nearly blinding her eyes. She pushed back a lock of her blonde hair, letting the cool air sting her face and her lungs. It was more frigid up here, but Amelia couldn't bring herself to care. She was free, for now.

Only when the sun had sunk all the way beneath the horizon did Amelia realize that she had been away from home and her parents (or at least, her father) were probably worried sick about her disappearance.

She slid ungracefully off the roof, landing hard on her ankle. A sickening _crack_ followed and she winced visibly.

Amelia cursed under her breath. Now her mother had more ammunition to use against her.

She could only imagine the ensuing chastisement.

 _Amelia Esther Bones! You went out alone without any forewarning and on top of that, you performed an unladylike action. What were you thinking? I'm ashamed of you, Amelia._

Amelia focused on healing her ankle, because that was the more important thing to worry about right now. Her mother could wait, because Amelia wasn't going to crawl on her hands and knees.

Amelia searched for her pockets. Where was her wand? The one time she needed it, and she couldn't find it.

Darn it. Looks like she was going to be reduced to crawling after all.

She crouched onto her knees and was just about to place her hands on the ground before a voice called out, "Do you need help?"

Her head jerked up so fast she almost dislocated her neck.

A boy, who Amelia presumed to be her age or slightly younger, appeared out of the woods. He was slim and tall with shocking blue eyes and temperamental hair. He was handsome, not in an obvious way, but his kind voice made her heart thrum with joy.

"I'm sorry for frightening you like that," the boy apologized, approaching her cautiously, "but you looked like you needed assistance. You took a nasty fall."

Amelia's eyes scanned over the boy, evaluating exactly _how_ much she could trust him. He didn't look at all threatening; his stance was relaxed and he looked sympathetic.

"All right," she consented and to her astonishment, the boy pulled out a wand.

"Yes, I'm a wizard," he added, seeing the surprised expression on her face.

"How do you know that I'm not a Muggle?" she asked skeptically.

"I go to Hogwarts too, a year behind you. The name's Dawlish, John Dawlish. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady."

He extended a helpful hand. Amelia clasped it and he lifted her to her feet. She noted that his hand was callused and rough, but in a pleasant way.

" _Ferula_ ," he muttered.

"Thank you so much," she told him gratefully as a splint propped her leg up. She could at least walk home now. She was still hurt, but a little Skele-Gro from her father's supply would mend her ankle in due time. She still had to return home and deal with her mother's wrath, but she concentrated on discovering more about her new friend.

"What house are you in?" she asked him warmly.

"Ravenclaw." That wasn't a surprise, considering his quick thinking from moments before.

"That's nice," she commented noncommittally; she wasn't partial to any house except her own. "I was a—"

"—Hufflepuff," he finished proudly, "My best friend's brother told me. He's the same age as you. He claims he went out with you in his fifth year. "

"Oh," she said, mentally reprimanding herself for not remembering him. "Yeah, I did go out with him, but he was a prick so I dumped him the next day."

"That's plausible," he said, pausing to hop over a tree root, "Now let me ask you a question. Why didn't he mention a beautiful girl like you before?"

She blushed profusely; he certainly was charmer. "Are you flirting with me, Dawlish?"

"Can't I?"

"Isn't a little early to be flirting with me? I just met you in person today," she pointed out.

"Of course it is." He dropped his gaze to the earthen ground. "Let's continue with our question-and-answer game, shall we?"

She nodded, his crestfallen expression going unnoticed.

 **...vVv..**

Over the weeks that passed, Amelia learned many things about John. He was an excellent cook, he had a cat named Auburn, and he was a Half-blood, while she was a Pureblood. He had four siblings, two girls and two boys, who annoyed him at every waking moment. That was why he had gone exploring.

He also wanted to work for the Ministry, but his ambitions lay in slightly different direction. He wanted to become an Auror right out of Hogwarts, which a rather difficult but impressive feat to accomplish.

She liked him (as a friend). He liked her as a friend for a little while, but sedately and subtly started to try and to win her over.

It began with the compliments. Nothing outrageous or tactless, but he slipped them into casual conversations.

Like this one instance:

" _My mother is mad."_

" _How?"_

" _She's driving me insane with her relentless attacks, whether it's on my appearance or what I say or do."_

" _I don't know why she criticized your appearance; you look pretty to me."_

Amelia brushed off the compliments with a quick smile and a rebuttal, but he remained persistent.

One day, Amelia woke up to the squeak of her bedroom's window closing. When she went to investigate, she discovered a lily perched innocently on her windowsill.

Amelia was a smart girl, so she instantly knew the sender of the rose. He'd been dropping hints all week.

He left her various flowers everyday and every once in awhile he would attach a note with something flattering.

She humored John for a little while, pretending to be clueless about the whole ordeal, while John carried on blissfully, not knowing that the girl whose affections he was seeking knew about the flowers.

The next flower was a peach blossom, followed by a white rose. The thorns of the latter poked her fingers as well as her heart, but both remained intact.

The flowers kept arriving in copious amounts and she purchased more and more vases in order to have room for all of them.

Her family did not know of the flowers, since she kept them in a vase with a charm that would refill it with fresh water every few hours, so maintaining the flowers was easy. Whenever someone asked her about why she had accumulated so many, she laughed and said simply that she wanted to brighten up her room.

Finally, after four weeks, she admitted to John that she did know all along that he was the one sending the flowers. He smiled brilliantly and told her she would've been an idiot to not know, because she was too clever for her own good.

"Do you fancy me?" he asked that same evening, while they were taking a sunset stroll in the peaceful woods.

Amelia had a dilemma. She didn't want to say no and break his heart, but she didn't feel that way about him, or so she thought.

So, she told him she was still thinking, which was a half-truth. That didn't placate his mind; he started delivering chocolates until Amelia had a supply that would last her for a year. It served as a treat, but Amelia was still indecisive.

September 1st arrived and John boarded the train for his final year. Amelia faithfully bade him goodbye. She promised she would visit him during Christmas break.

Amelia did not keep her promise. Shortly after John departed, she received an acceptance letter from her dream job.

Amelia and her father were overjoyed; her mother not so much. Laura Bones spent the rest of the year with Amelia's cruel aunt.

The next time she encountered John was when he'd been accepted into a group of Auror trainees and she'd had her job for almost a year.

They met in the Ministry's Atrium when they both arrived at the same time via the Floo Network.

" _John?_ Is that _you_?" Amelia gasped upon noticing the name tag of the man in the next fireplace.

"Amelia?" John's blue eyes deliberately traveled up and down her body. He looked so much different now. He was an inch taller and he was tanner and fitter than before. Amelia's cheeks reddened.

"You look as gorgeous as the last time we saw each other," John remarked.

Amelia stifled a giggle. "And you, John, are looking quite hideous."

John puffed out his chest indignantly. "I'll have you know that girls were all over me this year," he boasted.

Amelia felt a flicker of jealousy, but swiftly retorted, "The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else."

"Mind you, I _am_ successful," he rebuked teasingly.

"You're insufferable." She shoved his shoulder lightly, a smirk gracing her lips.

Anyone who didn't know them would have thought they were a couple.

No, no they weren't. And they wouldn't be.

Their relationship flourished even more throughout the years, despite Lord Voldemort's resurrection.

One morning, into the second week of July in 1996, John awoke to birds chirping. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he pocketed his wand. With the war endangering everyone in Britain, everybody had to be on guard for an unexpected attack.

But nothing could have prepared him for the headline on this morning's newspaper.

The coffee mug in his hand fell to the floor with a _crash_ , spilling its contents everywhere, but he was too devastated to care. Tears of grief trickled down his face.

 _ **AMELIA BONES FOUND MURDERED AT HER HOME**_

 _His love was dead._

 **...vVv…**

 **Flower Translations:**

 **Lily: Beauty, Elegance, Sweetness**

 **Peach Blossom: I am your captive**

 **White Rose: I am worthy of you**


End file.
